Meeting Mother, a Sylar story
by the little spanko
Summary: Sylar is searching for his father in hopes of meaning & direction for his life. Unbeknownst to him, his true mother is following him. She doesn't like what she sees, and aims to rectify his behaviour. Spoilers for season 3/on. ***Warning: SPANKING***
1. Chapter 1

Warning: non-con non-sexual spanking of an adult. Don't worry, the brat deserved it.

Spoiler alert: This story is an off stem of Volume 4, which is the second half of Season 3. If you haven't seen these episodes, you don't yet want to read this story!

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Sylar's eyes opened to fire. Gone were Claire and Angela, and soon the building would be gone too. He sucked in a deep breath, his second breath since coming back to life. The back of his head had a sharp pain that was fading fast as he stumbled to stand. As he stood, he felt a searing pain trickle down his neck.

"Melted glass. Very good, Claire," he smiled as he wiped what was currently left of his burnt hand down the back of his neck, bringing it forward to look at it.

Trying to take a step, he noted that what had been left of the rubber in the soles of his shoes had mostly liquified in the short time he'd been standing. Looking up through the smoke and flames, he raised a hand, shattering the window and then he telekinetically sailed himself through it to safety in order to heal.

"Well, that's not what I had in mind," Sylar groused, watching both the building and his plotted revenge burn as his flesh healed itself. Most of his clothing and his shoes had melted away in the extreme heat. This only bothered him because he heard someone close by, and looking in their direction he realized he was being watched in his near nakedness.

A middle aged woman stood, watching him from around the corner of another building. Just staring. Not much made him feel shamed anymore, but somehow this did. Irritated by his feelings, he shot a line of electric at the woman, who disappeared behind the corner just before she was struck. Growling out a single laugh, Sylar set off for his current living space to clean and cloth himself.

On his way, his mind couldn't help but go over the past twenty four hours. He had loved Elle during the eclipse, only to kill her hours later. Next he took a power that revealed Arthur's lie, the lie about the Petrelli's being his true parents. He killed Arthur for this, angry and distraught that he once again had no family, and livid that he was lied to, manipulated. Angela, the great manipulator. Oh, she would pay. They would all pay. But first, he wanted to know why. But that wasn't to be, thanks to Claire, and now here he was, running the streets indecent, going home to lick his wounds.

Sylar showered in the little motel room he was staying at, letting the hot water spill over him as he rested his forehead against the wall. Eyes scrunched closed in anger, every once in awhile he lightly punched at the walls with the undersides of his fists, and then would let his fists skid down until his arms were again by his sides. Going after other powers didn't matter much to him anymore. All he wanted was to find his real family. "...and that starts with finding dad," he said aloud, before turning the shower off.

It wasn't hard, all he had to do was some basic searching. A day later, he was in Baltimore. He walked to the little timepiece restoration shop, feeling as though he were being watched, but could find no one staring. Miffed, he entered the building and went into the little shop and looked around, shocked at how similar it was to his own. A few seconds later, his father came from a back room, pointing a shotgun at him, thinking he was a burglar.

"Martin? Martin Gray? You went out for a pack of cigarettes and never came back. Or so the story goes. Kind of cliché, don't you think?" Sylar said, staring him down.

"Who are you?" Martin asked as he lowered the shotgun.

"I'm your son. And I have some questions for you," Sylar said, trying to contain his anger.

"I'm a different man than I was then, it was a long time ago," he said, putting away the shotgun.

"Maybe for you," Sylar said, watching him closely.

"You want an apology? An I'm sorry? To know that your mother was an infantile woman? Or that I regretted having a child with her?"

Sylar felt the tingle of a lie, "Well, let's start there, because I know for sure I'm not the son of a watchmaker and the woman who collected snow globes. So, who am I?" Pulling in the violent urge he felt was difficult, as he realized that everyone he'd known had lied to him.

"You were given to me by a man who needed money. You're mother wanted a baby and couldn't have one, I wanted out of a loveless marriage, but was a coward," Martin shrugged, as though it were an obvious story.

"By whom?"

"My brother."

"Is he still alive?" Sylar asked, his eyes watering slightly at both the information and at the possibility of meeting a living father who might have abilities, answers. He watched as Martin scribbled the address on a piece of paper and handed it to him. For a moment, he thought he might kill Martin, and for a moment he almost did. But then, he simply turned and walked out. There were more important matters at the moment.

With as emotional as he was upon leaving, Sylar didn't notice he was still being watched. Instead, his thoughts were on getting to his father, this Samson Gray, as quickly as possible.


	2. Chapter 2 A New Lead

Finally Sylar was on the correct street in Newark, and within moments he was at the address. "Taxidermist?" Sylar muttered from the street, stopped in his tracks. He almost smiled when he thought of the irony, then walked to the door. Finding it open, he walked in without knocking. He looked around, noting the expensive details of the place, along with the many stuffed animals.

"Hello? Anybody home?" Sylar called out, but no one answered. Walking around the house, he saw a photo of himself as a young boy, and near it, a snow globe.

Hearing a door creak, he followed the sound and found a lit cigarette in an ash tray. There was a loud bang, and suddenly electricity coursed through his body. Turning, Sylar faced a special ops team trained to take down 'specials'. He telekinetically shot the electric nodes out of him, and then went to work killing his attackers with ease, leaving one alive for information. "Who sent you? Where's my father?"

When the agent refused to answer, Sylar had another idea. Taking him into another house on the street, he fastened the agent to a chair by stabbing screwdrivers into his hands, all the way through the arm rests, and then taped his mouth. "That oughta hold you," he said as he happily went about learning who lived in the house.

Wandering into the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee and began ruffling through the mail on the counter before the nagging feeling of being watched hit him again. Looking out the window over the sink, he saw nothing. He tried to ignore the feeling, but the way it made him feel guilty – an emotion he particularly despised – couldn't be ignored.

Going to the front door, he peered out the window, but only saw the police surrounding his father's house down the street. Thinking about it some more, he decided his new quest to find his father was likely putting him more in touch with his emotions and, as a result, it was making him paranoid. Figuring that must be it, and since he saw no one, he went back into the kitchen for his coffee and to scrounge up some food while he waited for someone to come home.

Soon enough, he heard the front door open and close, along with panicked whispers.

"You must be Mary Campbell... or, occupant," Sylar smiled as he came into the living room to greet them, holding up the mail. Mary came at him with the poker from the fireplace after getting a look at the bloody agent, but with the wave of his hand it was across the room, and Mary and her teen boy were forced telekinetically into chairs. Grinning at the agent, Sylar said, "Let's see if their torture gets you talking."

"Your father's been taken into custody," the agent said.

"Another lie," Sylar laughed, "it's really time we got started. Now, where to start," he said, looking from the boy to Mary. "...how about...Mommy."

"Why are you doing this? What did we ever do to you?" Mary asked.

"Nothing. I could just as easily be a tornado...there's no difference, actually." Again, that annoying sense of being watched! Sylar swept the room with his eyes. Nothing. He looked out of the windows. Nothing.

"Leave her alone!" The boy yelled, snapping Sylar's attention back.

"Quiet Luke!" Mary yelled back at him.

"I sense some dysfunction in the Campbell household," Sylar grinned, lowering his hand. "Come on, Luke, I know that rage – the rage of a father gone and an abandoned mother who drew the short stick. ...I saw the child support check in the mail. Deep down, you want to see her dead. Admit it."

Luke just glared at him, and, getting bored, Sylar began telekinetically choking Mary while sipping his coffee. Without warning, his mug exploded, hot coffee burning him as he looked to see Luke's hand raised in his direction.

"Small world. We really need to talk."

Sylar dragged Luke across the room, and set out a plastic figurine on a table. "Show me," he said, stepping back to watch. Before his eyes, Luke easily melted the figure.

"It's like a microwave," Luke muttered proudly under his breath as though trying to impress and be accepted, so that it became obvious that Sylar's earlier words concerning the Campbell household were not that far off.

"Very impressive," Sylar said, thinking.

"You should see it around pacemakers," Luke chuckled, and Sylar followed suit. Mary made a noise, looking at her son with a disgusted look. "She hates me, you know."

"She can sense it in you...the will," Sylar pointed to his head as Luke hung on his every word. Just then, the agent broke free and aimed his gun at Sylar.

"NO," Luke yelled, pushing Sylar out of the way and killing the agent with his ability. The agent's burnt and bubbly body fell dead to the floor.

"Luke! NO!" Mary yelled.

"He was...," Luke broke off, scared and staring at the body.

"He was going to save us! What are you?" She looked at him as though he repulsed her. Sylar turned to leave, irate that his one chance to find his father was now dead on the floor.

"Take me with you! I know where your father is," Luke pleaded. "I can take you to him."

Sylar studied him, noting he wasn't lying, various emotions playing on his face.

"I know why you need to find him, I'm just like you. Take me with you."

"Does your mother have a car?" Sylar asked, still deciding.

Luke grabbed the set of keys from the table, "Not anymore." They both smirked as Sylar snatched the keys from Luke's hand. Mary sat quite still in the chair, not daring to make a sound as she watched her son steal her car.


	3. Chapter 3 The Greasy Spoon

After hours of driving, Luke managed to irritate Sylar into finally stopping at a roadside diner.

"Perfect, this is what I was talking about – a greasy spoon!" Luke laughed, happy to be on what he considered a road trip. Clapping Sylar on the shoulder he said, "This will be great, trust me!"

"If you don't stop trying to be my friend, I _will_ kill you," Sylar said quite seriously, but Luke just chuckled as a bird landed on the car parked next to them.

"Do you like birds? Your dad used to take me birding – he sold you, ya know," Luke said awkwardly, knowing that the information would take the heat off of him and hoping it would convince Sylar to not want to find his father.

"What kind of a man sells his own son?"

"He needed cash."

"Why would he tell _you_ that?"

"Dunno. Maybe I reminded him of you," Luke answered and then got out of the car, purposely leaving Sylar alone to think about that for a moment before he begrudgingly followed Luke into the diner.

In the diner, Luke found whole new ways to irritate Sylar, from spinning on his stool at the counter to blowing bubbles in his drink with his straw. He even made a point to flirt with the young waitresses, telling them stories about how he and Sylar were brothers out for a good time. Sylar stabbed at his food, cantankerous and just about at the end of his rope.

"Hey, check out ZZ Top," Luke said as Sylar tried to ignore him. Luke stood and lifted his hand towards the man across the counter from him, and soon the man's milk bubbled over, making him yell. When the man's glass shattered, Sylar looked up to see what Luke was doing.

Shocked, Sylar grabbed Luke's arm and pulled it down with one hand while swatting him hard on the ass with the other before pushing him back down onto his stool. "Stop it," Sylar snapped at Luke, "Not here!"

Luke shifted uncomfortably on his stool, "It wasn't a big deal; like anyone'd know."

"Our powers aren't for your _amusement_, you understand that? We don't need the attention," Sylar scolded as Luke looked away and rolled his eyes.

"You want more?" Sylar threatened, staring Luke down with a hefty glare.

"No!" Luke answered quickly before looking embarrassed and dropping his eyes to his hands. Sylar nodded with an evil smirk before shifting his attention back to his food.

After watching him for a long moment under his eyelashes, Luke ventured, "What _are_ our powers for, then? How should I use them?"

Sylar gave him a sideways glance before setting his fork down; turning back to him, he began speaking passionately: "Always have a plan, an end game. You should have a purpose when you use them; otherwise, don't make a move. Try to stay discreet, it'll be easier for you that way and you'll be less likely to get caught."

Sylar gave a small smile at the way Luke was hanging on his every word, enjoying the way it made him feel so important. It was also nice to be genuinely helping someone, especially with the recent guilt he'd been feeling of late. Remembering the guilt made him aware once more of being watched.

"Those guys who just walked in are agents," Luke breathed to him in a quiet whisper. Without moving anything but his eyes, Sylar saw who he was talking about. They were very obvious. He also saw more of them scattered around the diner.

"Follow my lead, move slowly," he told Luke in a calm voice while he tossed down money for the bill.

As they both stood to leave, the agents made their move and quickly surrounded them. Luke gave him a meaningful look and then flung himself at the closest agent, wrapping his arms around him like a desperate child. Luke cried out, "Please help me! He kidnapped me and threatened me! I just wanna go home!"

It was the perfect diversion. Sylar blew out a window and was in the car before anyone could even try and stop him. Just as he slammed the car into reverse, Luke broke away and ran to the passenger side door, "Unlock the door! What are you doing?"

The agents were on Luke's heels, and Sylar simply looked away and hit the gas. He looked back once more before putting it in drive only to see Luke being tasered and falling to the ground. Gritting his teeth, Sylar slammed on the gas and got the hell out of there.


End file.
